


The Cold and The Lonely

by SkinnyBoi0321



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, More characters to come, Never watched 6B yet though, Not a true fan, References to Depression, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Has Issues, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Needs a Hug, set after season 6b
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2020-05-20 15:16:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinnyBoi0321/pseuds/SkinnyBoi0321
Summary: Despite acting like a strong leader and put-together person, that's all it is: roles for Scott to act. He's had to be there for his pack for many years, but when they're all out living their own lives, Scott feels ... empty & non-productive; he feels like he's nothing. One particularly bad night, he's convinced to make things right which eventually leads him to a boy running in the forest of Beacon Hills. Scott has to trek a journey of not only finding out who this boy is but also who he is.





	1. Chapter 1

Scott wasn’t used to being this alone.

His best friend Stiles went back to Quantico in order to continue studying under the FBI. Lydia moved in with Stiles and is attending UVA as a Math major. Derek and Peter are roaming the globe, surprisingly not killing each other. Liam, Hayden, Mason, Corey, and even Theo have been so swamped with senior-year school stuff that they barely have time to be with Scott. And Mama McCall was, well, the usual Mama McCall.

Allison is dead, been dead for years; and yet there still are times when the look she got when she saw him shoots through his mind. Kira’s been with the Skinwalkers for what feels like an eternity and there's still no word on if she’s to ever return to Scott and Beacon Hills ever again. And then there’s Malia: the fierce and headstrong werecoyote with whom it only seemed like yesterday that Scott was in this great & understanding relationship; still, years of being stuck as a coyote had made her too independent & her desire for something to call her own once again came through her mind, for Malia ultimately decided to travel to Paris by herself. Scott definitely understood her reasons and both proceeded with life civilly before she left for France, but he deep down still felt that a sense of longing for her, for all of them even to this day.

Now here he was, laying on his bed with the lights out, failing to fall asleep. Nothing he's done these days have felt productive or rewarding; even Beacon Hills itself have been relatively quiet after the incident with the Hunters about a year ago. He’s always had his pack, but now everything seems empty without them.

He’s supposed to be the Alpha, he’s supposed to carry the burdens that the Pack shouldn’t, he’s supposed to be strong. Yet in this moment, with no one else around him to see or hear, a single tear caresses down Scott’s left cheek.

Suddenly, both of his eyes feel pressured as he tries to stop that tear and any subsequent tears to no avail.

His chest feels heavy and his nose undergoes some type of pressure. His face is as it’s on fire yet his brain feels like mush. His throat's dry and his stomach's shaking since he didn’t have the will to eat tonight. His body has been aching to do something, but his mind told him to stay in bed and do nothing; to be the nothing he was. His face tightens up as it continues to be drenched in his tears; ultimately stopping with trying to hold back, Scott flings his body into a sitting position and tries to let it all out.

He was nothing: he couldn’t keep his friends here, he couldn’t save Allison, he couldn’t save Aiden, he couldn’t keep a job, he couldn’t keep the lacrosse assistant coach gig, he couldn’t make his mom happy, he couldn’t keep Malia with him. It seems like he can’t do anything right. Nothing at all. He felt like nothing.

Feeling exhausted from this fit, Scott finally closes his eyes and tries again to fall into a sleep. The mind games continue … at least until he hears something strange. Strangely familiar.

“You need to stop that.”

Scott’s eyes fly wide open and his body springs back up from the horizontal position, but he finds no one other than himself in the room. He searches the room, even to the point of shifting his eyes into the crimson red of a True Alpha, yet nothing novel appears. Both doors were closed, and the window behind his bed was locked & sealed shut.

When he finally looked to his left, a figure was sitting with his legs crossed and shooting a stupid grin at Scott. He finally states, “You need to stop thinking like that, man.”

Scott squints his eyes as he breathlessly spouts, “Stiles? How did you get in here?”

Stiles answers, “Oh, I’m not actually here here, with you. I’m just a figment of your imagination. And me being here just goes to show how messed up you’re making yourself.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“Well, what have you been doing?”

“Nothing, nothing productive anyways. Everyone’s got their own thing and their own lives, but it feels like for so long the pack was the only thing good in my life that I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

“Are you kidding me? You are Scott McCall: a freakin’ True Alpha, one of the bestest dudes out there, my best friend & brother, a great leader for a bunch of idiots expect Lydia, and let's not forget ‘the hottest girl,’ right?” Scott finally chuckles, but a weak chuckle. ‘Stiles’ continues, “Have you talked to someone about this?”

“Turns out I have you.”

“I mean someone sentient. As in real flesh, blood, and even fur; not figment of imagination or ‘brain-Stiles.’”

“Um, then no.”

“What about Deaton?”

“He’s not going to talk to me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“When Malia left for France, I clocked into work and immediately ate all of the rabbits that Deaton was supposed to take care of.” ‘Stiles’s’ eyes pop wide open, to which Scott reacts, “You’re in my mind; shouldn’t you know this?”

‘Stiles’ responds, “Hey, you made me based on the real Stiles, and he wasn’t there when you did that so how do you expect me to know that?!” Scott flings back onto the bed in frustration, so ‘Stiles’ softens up before continuing, “You’re not gonna know if he won’t talk to you unless you try.”

Scott sits back up to look at the Stile beside him, closes his eyes in thought, deciding, “Fine, I’ll do it.” He reopens his eyes, only to find no one beside him. He slides off the bed and starts getting ready.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott pulls up into Deaton’s parking lot on his motorcycle. Once parked, he removes his helmet and separates himself from the bike before walking up to the entrance of Deaton’s animal clinic with his hands in his dark denim jacket. Scott’s hand hovers in front of the door, hesitating to knock in fear of getting no response at all; he thinks about what ‘Stiles’ said to him, and proceeds to knock.

Moments pass, and Deaton opens the door to find Scott: eyes still freshly red from the crying & wide open in surprise, shoulders slumped, olive-green jeans a little tight since he hasn’t worked out in a while so the usually slim-fit now feels a bit skinny, and breath sounding shaky at the moment of the door opening. Deaton asks, “Hello, Scott. What are you doing here?”

Scott responds, “I’m sorry. For everything.”

Deaton frowns curiously before saying, “Come in. Let’s talk.” Deaton steps towards the side while propping the door open, inviting Scott who eventually does enter the clinic. When the two of them stumble into the exam room where Scott & many of his friends have been operated on, Deaton inquires, “So, what do you want to talk about?”

Scott replies, “Well, first off, I wanted to say sorry for what I did all those months ago. Malia & I had just broken up, and I thought I’d have a handle on the pain but it all just came out by eating all those rabbits. Also, lately I’ve been feeling this … this emptiness, you know? Everyone is doing their own things and I’m trying hard to keep us together in spirit as a pack and to maintain this ‘strong True Alpha’ image, but I don’t really know what to do with or for myself anymore.” Scott’s head drops down before he continues, “And I didn’t want to bother any of them but I felt I had no one else to turn to.”

Deaton walks to Scott and gently places his hand on Scott's shoulder, startling him enough to fling his head back up. Deaton responds, “I’m glad you explained yourself this time. And you should always know that I’m here to talk.”

“So you’re not mad anymore?”

“Now that you’ve told me your reasoning, it makes sense that you reacted that way to the breakup. As a werewolf, your emotions are heightened to an unknown degree; so while you experience much more intense love & feelings for anything compared to an average human, you’re also susceptible to anger and even depression.”

Scott’s eyebrows raise and his forehead creases as he states, “Depression? I thought that all types of psychological illness wouldn't be possible because of my accelerated healing.”

Deaton answers, head shaking back & forth, “Not everything, Scott. And it seems to me by how you walked in here and how you explained what you’ve been feeling that you're on the verge of depression.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, you used to love coming here and taking care of the animals, so loss of interest in things comes into play. Your posture, facial expressions, and explanation prove of your sadness. Your eyes are red, so you’ve either cried recently or consistently; and you also have eye bags coming in on your face, so your sleep must not be the best. You’ve been picking at your jeans, so they must feel uncomfortable now since your food & lack of exercise may have transferred the weight to your legs. And the way you explained yourself to me with only one pause to think indicates that you’ve played out this situation or at least the words in your head multiple times.”

“You’re scary sometimes, you know that?”

Deaton chuckles, “I have to study animals' abnormal behaviors on a daily basis, and humans even with their complex cognition are no different. Anyways, luckily you haven’t show severe hopelessness or even thoughts of suicide, so you’re not that far gone. You just have a sense of longing since you feel left out from people close to you, both platonic and romantic.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Scott, you’re doing nothing wrong; you’re just living life. Everyone has their own paths in life, some intersect for however long and some stay separate for varying periods of time. The best thing I can tell you is that in order to help your pack when they need it, you need to help yourself and find what makes you happy first. You can involve other people in whatever that may be, but the happiness you find through that has to stem from your own will to make yourself happy.”

Scott removes himself from the metal table he was leaning upon in order to embrace Deaton in a hug. “Thanks, Deaton; I really needed this,” he whispers as he increasingly tightens the hug. Deaton reciprocates the hug and they hold for a few seconds before releasing. Scott continues, “Can I still talk to you about this?”

Deaton nods and answers, “Anytime, Scott.” Deaton walks around Scott and directs him to exit the now open door leading back into the parking lot.

Once he gets to the bottom of the small flight of stairs, Scott catches in the corner of his eye an unfamiliar sight: a small patch of white laying on the ground where the open dirt meets the forest floor. He squints his eyes as he walks towards the object, squatting down to inspect it.

Deaton rubs his arms quickly once he catches up to Scott, “What’s the matter?”

Scott picks up some of the substance with his hand as he replies, “It’s snow. In mid November after having some thunderstorms. Sitting at the opposite edge of the forest while the mountain isn’t for miles.”

“California has been cold lately, but this is admittedly chillier than normal.”

“What do you think is going on or what could cause this?”

Before Deaton could answer, Scott’s ears focus enough to hear heavy breaths & quick feet exploring the leafy floor only a few meters away; eventually, he hears a thud and a fall, followed by a human grunt before the heavy breaths & fast-travelling-sounds resume. Scott brings his attention towards the sound, then back to Deaton; Deaton signals him to hurry, so Scott immediately turns and heads for the sound.


	3. Chapter 3

It was already midnight; and the colder and snowier it got, the closer Scott was getting to the sounds of heavy breathing & leaves crunching against fast steps. Scott tried keeping his eyes open as he was being bombarded by the cool wind and the snow specks dancing in the air, yet there were times that he momentarily closed his eyes and tripped against some branches; he was determined to find the source of the noise though, so he tread forward.

The sound of steps stop registering in Scott’s super-hearing, so he stops himself in order to refocus on anything. After a few moments, he finally hears the heavy breathing again and it sounds close, so Scott continues in more of a speed walk towards the noise.

Minutes pass by with stepping on a mix of twigs, dirt, dead leaves, and patches of snow; eventually, Scott stops when he finds the breath originating at a tree in front of him. He looks around himself first to find nothing out of place or novel, so he walks towards the tree and brings his eyes downward while walking around it to find a figure in the fetal position struggling to catch its breath surrounded by a thick blanket of snow around him.

Now stopping in front of the figure, Scott now has a better angle to process: it’s a teen-aged-looking boy sitting upright with knees to the chest and back facing the tree, breaths not slowing down in any capacity and tears rolling profusely down both cheeks. He was unnaturally pale & skinny, hair short and jet-black, clothes ragged but still mostly intact, and most curiously his teardrops would freeze once leaving contact with his face before plopping onto the snow.

The boy was staring forward blankly into space as he struggled to breathe, but his attention fully shifted to Scott when he asks, “Hey, are you okay?”

Scott hastily removes his jean jacket from his shoulders and offers it in help, but the boy backs farther until there was no space between him and the tree any longer. Once cornered, the boy screams, “Stay back. Stay back!” Cold wind magically expels out of the boy, sending Scott hovering slightly through the air and eventually hitting his back on a tree a few yards away.

Once Scott grunts in pain and falls to the ground, the boy is snapped out of his daze and brings his attention to Scott. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Are you okay?” he asks as he runs to Scott’s side.

Scott attempts a push-up as he tries to reassure the boy, “I’m okay,” but he immediately winces & collapses back to the ground.

The boy squats close and examines Scott, “Um, your back and shirt are scratched up. If you’ll let me, I can try to stop the bleeding and numb the pain, but it’s not a permanent fix.”

Scott relaxes his body on the ground as he accepts, “Alright, ahh, try it.”

The boy rips a bigger hole into the shirt and hovers his hands over Scott’s back in preparation as he states once again, “I’m so sorry, mister.”

Chuckling, Scott replies, “It’s okay. And none of the ‘mister’; you can call me Scott.”

A cold mist seeps from the boy’s hands as he slowly descends them upon the older male’s back, “Well, I’m still sorry, Scott.”

Upon contact, the cold sensation against his bare skin is soothing; “Hoo! That’s nice,” as he relaxes more yet keeps his eyes on the boy just in case.

After a few moments, the boy re-hovers his hands and the mist dissipates as he says, “Well, by your reaction, the pain should be better to handle; and there is a bit of frost to keep it cool but don’t twist or bend your back too much. You don’t have any wraps on you by chance, do you?”

Scott grabs at an offered hand in order to help him to his feet without breaking the frost. “I am wearing a belt right now. Maybe I can use that to secure my shirt over the ice?” he proposes.

“That sounds like a good idea,” the boy nods. He then helps Scott up to the point where the older boy is steadily on his knees. Scott easily removes his shirt and starts to unravel his belt on his waist; the boy’s eyes widen at the moment, so he squeals, “Um, I’ll give you some privacy.”

The boy turns around & is about to walk away, but Scott sternly says, “Hey! Nope, you’re not going anywhere.” The boy looks back at him, keeping his eyes on Scott’s face, as Scott continues, “While I appreciate you not killing me, I still need to keep my eye on you; I don’t know if you’re a threat or not.”

The boy replies, “Fair; how about I stay here but turn away?” Scott silently nods his head, so the boy proceeds to turn his body around while Scott finally removes his belt.

Scott grabs his torn shirt from the ground & makes it into a ball; he tries to contort his arm in order to place the balled-up shirt on his back, but his arm isn’t that flexible and he can’t multitask with that & the belt in the other hand. Looking back at the boy, he softly asks, “Excuse me, but can you help me with this?”

“Oh, okay,” constantly keeping his focus on Scott’s head as he’s walking to Scott's back. He grabs the shirt from Scott’s right hand before he squats & presses the fabric against the frosted cuts. 

As he wraps his belt around himself similarly to a seat-belt, Scott inquires, “So, what’s your name?”

“Um, I’m Kameron.”

“Huh, you don’t look like a Kameron.” Scott slowly stands on his own once the belt is secured.

Kameron stands up shortly afterwards as he continues, “My mother wanted to name me after Khione the Greek goddess or Kuraokami the Japanese dragon god of rain & snow; My father ultimately chose a name that honors those deities and can be said easily. Why? What do your Kamerons look like?”

“Definitely nothing like you.” He turns around and smiles at Kameron with both this half smile and his soft eyes. Kameron yelps immediately and covers his whole face with his hands. Scott changes his expression by creasing his eyebrows closer together before he chuckles, “Whoa, what is this?”

“I’ve been trying to focus on your head so I don’t get flustered, but your face is doing that and now I don’t want to look.”

“But I’m still here. Covering your face isn’t going to make me disappear.” Scott walks closer to Kameron and grips at his forearms; Kameron’s arms are almost freezing to the touch, but all Scott does in reaction is a small wince which surprises Kameron.

Kameron removes his hands from his face as he asks, “How are you not writhing in pain at your hands?”

“I can still feel it, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Scott takes a deep inhale, closing his eyes, before re-opening them to reveal his crimson eyes and sharp fangs. Kameron takes in a shuttering breath, “Whoa, you’re a supernatural,” before carefully touching around Scott’s face; due to the 5’10” stature of the older boy, Kameron’s 5’5”-iness forced him to extend his arms upward in order to feel around Scott’s features, which surprisingly Scott didn’t mind at all. Meanwhile, the snow surrounding the two of them seems to be dissolving into thin air and the wind slowing.

Noticing these changes out of the corners of his eyes, Scott redirects the conversation, “So, since you know what I am --”

“Actually, you’ve shown me something, but that doesn’t mean I completely know what you are.”

“Have you never seen a werewolf before?”

Kameron shakes his head.

“Anyways, can I ask you what you are and why you were running through the forest?” The only response Scott receives is a sudden fainting spell coming over Kameron, with eyes rolling back before closing and legs giving out; luckily, Scott catches him and takes him into a bridal-style carry before starting to run back to Deaton’s.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for such a long wait [for those that were waiting]! Life and motivations for writing had its ups and downs; but somehow the Coronavirus situation opened things up for me, so I thought, "Might as well get back into the swing of things." I won't promise a schedule of updates, but hopefully I can be more consistent with updates on not just this work but my other works. Hope you guys like it [in all of its rustiness]!

“Deaton!”

The back door of Deaton’s clinic flies open violently, not because of the winds suddenly picking up but rather Scott kicking the door.

Deaton’s voice appears as he turns the corner from some other room, “You know, if you want me to keep forgiving you, Scott, you better learn how to not break anythi-- Oh dear.” He swings into action by guiding Scott to the main check-up room once seeing the small teenager in the young adult’s arms. As he’s clearing the table, he asks, “Is he from the woods?”

Scott responds as he places Kameron on the table, “Yeah. He was causing the cold wind and snow coming from there.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I found him and he blasted me with cold air. He was apologetic about it seconds later, and healed my back that hit a tree by putting frost to numb it.”

“Interesting. What happened next?”

“We were just talking, but then he suddenly fainted in front of me; and now we’re here.”

“Okay. Get me some hot water and towels; I might have some heating lamps in storage that can help.”

“Are you sure that’s going to work? He has powers based on the cold, so I don’t see how taking him out of his element will help.”

“Actually, shocking his system by taking him to the opposite side of his element spectrum might jolt his systems faster.”

“Might? Really? This sounds like a Stiles thing to do.”

“Well, the boy was somehow always proficient during desperate times, so I’m emulating his desperate measures. Now, water and towels, go!”

The two go separate ways: Scott going to the racks near the observation table for the towels & a bucket, then the bathrooms for the water; Deaton returning to the back of the clinic where two storage closets stand. After a minute, they have a whole set-up where Deaton is surrounding the observation-table with the heating fans while Scott hovers Kameron to check his steadying breathing and places a warm & wet towel on his forehead. 

A few minutes pass, and Deaton is surprisingly the one to become restless. “This shouldn’t be taking this long.”

“How would you kn-- wait, Deaton?” But Scott was too late to stop him as Deaton reaches out his hand to Kameron’s forearm; but the contact instantly turns cold on Deaton’s hand as Kameron instinctively pushes him away with a gust of wind but simultaneously causing Kameron to fly off the table as well. “Kameron!”

With labored breath, Kameron says to Scott, “I’m fine.” He struggles to stand up, so Scott vaults over the table to help him. After he makes a weak smile on his face, he notices something about himself, “Why am I soaking wet?”

“You were ice-cold to the touch, so we tried to heat you up a bit and regulate your system; turns out, you were sweating a lot because of it and your skin is somehow still cold. Deaton hasn’t even tried to check your temperature yet because you weren’t responsive or manageable to move.”

“Who is this Deaton?”

On cue, Deaton stands up from his place on the floor after he was blown away by Kameron before saying, “Deaton. Nice to meet you, Kameron.”

Kameron shuffles behind Scott, only allowing a small part of his face to see & be seen by Deaton, “Oh, um, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Deaton, please. Anyways, I’ve never met someone like you. Let me guess: you’re an ‘yuki-otoko’?”

Kameron is about to shake his head or respond to Deaton’s observation, but Scott beats him to it, “Actually, a ‘Yuki-otoko’ is closer to a yeti or an abominable snowman, and I don’t think he looks like a hairy mountain monster. Right, Kameron?” Scott turns his upper body to face him and shines this soft smile, eyes squinting yet somehow radiating this bright energy; somehow, smiling like this actually has an effect on Scott just as much as Kameron, this feeling of smiling again after so long is amazing.

Kameron responds, “Right.” He steps away from Scott to get a better look at him before continuing, “How do you know that?”

“When an ex-girlfriend of mine was still discovering what supernatural creature she was, we researched a bit together. Turns out she was a kitsune, but I picked up more names of other Japanese creatures. Based on your powers and the look of your skin at least as of right now, are you related to a Yuki-onna?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the son of a Yuki-onna, so I’m considered a Yuki-ko.”

“And what about your father?”

“My father?”

“Yeah.”

Before more information is spilled, Deaton cuts in, “As much as I don’t want to interrupt, I need to clean this place up and I don’t want to seem like I’m intruding into this conversation. Kameron, after a quick observation, I see signs of fatigue in your body composition, fainting spells or at least dizziness, your weakened muscles in that you couldn’t stay on the table when you reacted to me touching you, and probably others that I may be missing. For now, the best thing for you to get is rest and maybe some food. Scott, can you ensure he gets those two things?”

Scott straightens his back and nods, “Don’t worry, Deaton; I got him,” before turning back to Kameron’s direction with his smile. “Do you mind if you stay at my house?”

Kameron jumps for joy, “Yes, I would love to!”

Scott is about to correct Kameron on how to properly respond, but seeing the pure happiness within this frail body convinces him to go along with it, “Great, let’s go! Good night, Deaton, and thanks again for tonight.”

Deaton calls out as the two boys leave, “Keep me updated on everything!”


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you ready?" Scott asks as he grabs his helmet.

"Yes, I am ready to go to your house," Kameron replies while swinging his arms playfully through the air.

"Cool. Hop on."

"Hop on what?"

Scott sits on the seat of his motorcycle while answering, "My bike."

Eyes widen. "Um, so that is a bike."

"Yeah, how else are we gonna get home?"

"Do you not walk?"

"I could, but this is much faster. Don't worry; I have this helmet here for you to use."

"Looks ... dangerous. If the bike is moving, then how do I stay still?"

"You just hang onto me." Blush comes over Kameron's face at that line and his eyes widen again, some things Scott definitely notices but it doesn't show on his own face. "Do you trust me?"

"My mother says that I shouldn't trust people I've just met. And I don't see many people other than her, so I don't usually trust people other than her."

Scott stands up from his motorcycle and sets the helmet back onto the seat as he walks over to the younger boy before saying, "I can't argue with that kind of logic; but I can't leave you alone here or anywhere, no matter how used to the cold I assume you are." By the end of that sentence, Scott is standing only a foot away from Kameron; he's replaced his denim jacket on his person, but his shirt is still secured as a bunch onto his back by his belt, so Scott's bare chest at Kameron's eye-level and abs are barely hiding behind the jacket.

Kameron cannot calm down with this sight right in front of him, so his voice cracks constantly, "Didn't your friend say that I have fatigue and muscle weakness? How am I going to hang onto you?"

Scott is actually chuckling rather than seeming annoyed, "How about this: my left hand will hold onto the left handle and my right hand will hold onto your body behind my back? You can wrap your left arm around my waist, but I just need your right hand to keep the right handle steady. Do you think you can do that?" Scott extends his right hand to Kameron's left elbow, and the contact is surprisingly warm.

Kameron subtly shudders at the contact before finally answering, "I can try."

"Cool." The extended right arm swiftly drops so that the hand grabs at the younger's left wrist before pulling him to the motorcycle. Scott grabs the helmet again, but then turns around to place it on the boy's head; once secured, Scott lifts the face shield so Kameron can see the sincerity in his eyes during this next bit: "You can trust me, I promise you."

Kameron can only give a simple head nod as a response before the face shield is replaced into its normal place and he's once again pulled closer to the motorcycle. He silently listens to every instruction as Scott sits on the skinny vehicle, turns it on, and guides how Kameron is to sit behind him. After a few seconds of settling into the small seat, Kameron's left arm struggles to securely wrap around the lean waist of the older male while the right hand patiently grips at the right handle.

Kameron restarts, "Wait, don't you need a helmet too?"

"I'll be fine; you need it more and I heal easily anyways." Scott places a strong right forearm onto the arm squirming across his waist before smiling and continuing, "Ready?"

Kameron settles his helmeted head onto Scott's back and pulls himself closer to his back with his left arm, "Ready." He smiles all throughout the whole ride as he revels in the unfamiliar yet welcoming warmth in front of him.


End file.
